


away but never gone

by twistedingenue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, smut with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/pseuds/twistedingenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy's having a perfectly pleasant dream in their half-empty bed when she wakes up to the sound of sheets rustling and cold air hitting her suddenly bare legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	away but never gone

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, when I take a day off of work, I start writing smut. Is this a problem?  
> Thank you to daroos for the quick beta.

Darcy's having a perfectly pleasant dream in their half-empty bed when she wakes up to the sound of sheets rustling and cold air hitting her suddenly bare legs. She makes a disgruntled noise and tries to reach out with her feet for the blanket, still mostly asleep.

Strong, familiar hands inch steadily up her legs, and Darcy's eyes widen into focus in the dark as she feels a wet, broad heat between her thighs. She slings off the rest of the blanket and looks down to see Clint's raised eyebrows and the tips of his fingers waving at her. His mouth hovers just over her cunt and his breath is so warm and it fills her with the want she has been pushing down while he's been gone.

"Welcome back," she says, wrapping her fingers in his hair, pressing gently. "You have a good trip?"

There's a reason she's with Clint, and she's rewarded for her sarcasm. Clint opens her up, his tongue teasing and tracing her lips. He's not okay, not at all. It's not something she can tell from how he's eating her out, but from how he came in without noise, and smelling of soap. His hair has been washed and his skin is clean, he wanted to be rid of the mission before he came home to Darcy.

"Clint, baby, what's…"

"Darce right now, I want you to moan or scream or whatever," Clint says, his voice a rumble against delicate skin, "But not talk. That's for morning. Night time is for fun things, okay?"

He doesn't talk again, just methodically takes her apart with his mouth and his fingers while she squirms and holds onto him. Clint never misses his mark, but he especially never misses when it is her he's aiming for. Darcy shakes and shudders when she comes, and Clint slowly crawls his way up to rest his head on her chest. He explained it once, in a rare frank discussion about what his work really entails, about how when he has to do wrong it's nice to lose himself in causing even a small amount of good.

Darcy isn't going to complain if this is how Clint has a coping mechanism. She's seen a lot worse from a lot of other people.

She lets him lay in her arms for awhile, just breathing and blinking. Darcy kisses him long and deep, tastes herself on his lips and tongue, "Do you want to keep going?" she asks, not particularly caring either way. These middle of nights may not be for talking, but they are a peculiar form of therapy. They exist so that Clint can switch actions for better ones; let them flow from his mind so they don't get locked up and poison him for the rest of his life.

He does have SHIELD-mandated therapy sessions. Shit, so does Darcy. And she's been told that since they've moved in together -- made that commitment and the work that went into it -- that Clint's actually been talking in them. Darcy's not fool enough to think it's all about her; it's more about Clint.

Clint slips out of her arms and pulls her up to sitting. He bunches up her nightgown and slips it over her head. That answers that. The last bits of whatever he was wearing land on the floor.

Clint can be entirely sweet when he's like this, over compensating for the harshness his voice will have in the morning, and the way he'll pull away from her for a little while until Darcy convinces him that he deserves her still. He'll touch and devour her with kisses, sloppy and wet until she laughs and arches.

He slips his arm underneath her, his weight covering her, and his skin is hot with a thin sheen of sweat. Underneath her lips, his skin tastes clean and salt-sweet and the press of his body is achingly wonderful. If this was cruder, she'd think about how his dick twitches against the delicate skin in the crook between her hip and thigh.

Sometimes you have sex and you fuck, and sometimes you make love. Darcy's not against mixing the two, and she lifts up again, grinding her hips into his, taking his mouth at the same time. Clint strokes her cheek with the back of his free hand. "You're so beautiful." He smiles down at her.

Darcy still doesn't know how to respond to such a straightforward compliment, except with a bashful smile that fills her face. And she reaches for his cock, stroking it's length and reveling in the way that Clint sucks in his lip, just a breath away from her lips.

She leads him inside of her, letting him fill her up in a smooth, slow glide. Darcy takes almost all of his weight for a moment, but it's not crushing, it's settling and transitory as he moves to rock his hips. He's reveling, she thinks. Reveling in her body and the aimless way he moves in her. Clint's eyes are closed, his lips slightly open in a half smile, and his whole body moves to some unsaid, needed beat.

When he loses all that care and worry that he carries with him, he’s beautiful too. Sometimes Darcy just doesn't feel like enough, she doesn't have the clearance to really know anything and she's made her peace with that. Their relationship was built on a foundation of things they can't tell other people. She runs her hand under his ass, bringing her knees up and crossing her legs over Clint's back.

He groans, "Baby girl, you tryin' to tell me something?"

"Go faster," Darcy replies, slapping him playfully on his ass.

"Faster?" Clint pulls out so that just the head of his cock pushes against her entrance."Faster?" He slides in just a little more. "Why would you ever want that?"

Darcy, "Clint, please…."

He does, and it is great. She kisses him with sheer delight and meets his thrusts with her hips, rocking together. Darcy breaks off the kiss and watches as Clint starts to lose it. His lips twitch and curl, and when he comes, his body completely relaxes. There's no tension and no mission stuck in his body.

Clint collapses beside her, lacing their fingers together for a couple of minutes before they both go to clean up. Before coming back to the bed, Darcy wraps her arms around Clint's neck. "I'm glad you're home."

Clint buries his head into the crook of her neck, breathes in and tips her over to land together on their bed. "Talk belongs to mornings, sweetheart."


End file.
